you remember me, after all, considering you take such a flattering interest in my humble career, Miss Courland?’
‘My brother writes of you in his letters, and reports of your daring deeds reach us even in a backwater like Hollowhurst, Commodore Afforde.’
‘The navy and I have parted company, so I don’t use my rank, and I was only ever a commodore when in command of my squadron, you know.’
‘Do you miss it?’ she asked absently, then told herself crossly not to ask such personal questions on the strength of the merest acquaintance. ‘I beg your pardon, that was impertinent of me.’
‘Not at all, our families have been friendly since before the Flood and your eldest sister is my cousin’s wife, so I think we may presume on both connections and friendship, don’t you? And the answer is, yes, I miss the limitless possibilities of the sea, but a battle is as grim a business at sea as on land and I’d been fighting them for far too long. They do say a true sailor only retires when he’s safely underground, or underwater, so life on shore might pall one day, I suppose.’
‘So you’re giving shore life a try out, then?’ she replied sharply, for his easy assumption that he could spring up out of the shadows in her own home and be offered a warm welcome was annoying now the shock had abated.
‘You think me presumptuous perhaps, Miss Courland?’ he asked, apparently unmoved by her sarcasm.
‘I think you’re likely to be bored and disillusioned when the novelty wears off, Sir Charles.’
‘You have become very frank in your opinions,’ he replied solemnly, but she could see enough of his expression through the gloom to know he was laughing at her. ‘And what a paltry fellow you do think me.’
‘How could I when your deeds are trumpeted throughout the land? That would be presumptuous and ungracious, Captain.’
‘Then why do I think you don’t care if I consider you a perfect lady or a hoyden, Miss Courland?’
‘I really don’t know, why do you think so, sir? Could it be that you just walked into my home unannounced and strolled about as if you owned it? It would never do for me to be so lost to the claims of simple hospitality as to point out such a vast presumption on your part, now would it?’
‘No, particularly now that I can’t stay here, as I planned, with you living alone in this scrambling fashion,’ he replied, the humour fading from his deep voice as he looked surprisingly stern in the shadowed light.
‘My mode of life is none of your concern.’
‘Ah, but it is, Miss Courland. It’s of very material concern to me, since it currently stands between me and my new life.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. Nothing I do has an effect on the way you live your life, Sir Charles, and I think you’re fit for Bedlam if you believe it does.’
‘Again, you are very frank,’ he said, such genial amusement in his deep voice that she wished she could forget she was a lady long enough to slap him.
Then he sobered again and she saw he was eyeing her shadowy figure in the fading light. Her dark gown must be adding to the gathering gloom and her face probably appeared almost ghostly in the twilight, but that was no reason for him to stare at her as if trying to resolve a vexing riddle.
‘You haven’t heard from your brother lately, I take it?’ he asked softly at last and there was something in his voice that sounded almost like pity. She shivered in sudden fear as she tried to reassure herself all was well.
‘Not for several weeks,’ she finally admitted as if the words had been racked out of her.
He was silent for a while as if pondering his next move and she refused to fill it with idle chatter when she hadn’t even invited him to walk into her brother’s drawing room and make himself at home. Anyway, she hated discussing her family with a man who was now a stranger, and the fact that she’d once heaped so many ridiculous hopes on his broad shoulders just made it worse. He was standing closer now and she’d be a fool not to notice he was more ridiculously handsome than ever. The careless glow of youth had left his face, along with any lingering innocence, and his features had hardened in maturity until he looked like a formidable Greek god—powerful Zeus instead of careless Apollo, perhaps.
Yet he seemed almost impatient of his looks, although he probably made little enough effort to fight off the women who flirted with him whenever he ventured into society or the demi-monde, if rumour was true. No doubt the idiotic females lined up to be seduced by the smiling devil he was now, and they were welcome to him. Roxanne infinitely preferred the younger, less jaded Charles Afforde of a decade ago to this cynical rake.
Colours were beginning to fade from the world along with the daylight, so she couldn’t tell if his eyes were as breathtakingly blue as ever, but they were certainly sharper and more disillusioned as he looked down at her as if trying to read her thoughts, which was one more good reason to keep him at arm’s length. The last thing she wanted was to become an open book to him, so he could amuse himself with a list of her peculiarities whenever he had an idle hour to spare.
‘I think you’ll find Davy’s life has changed more than usual during that time,’ he said carefully at last, as if he was weighing every word, then tempering them to avoid a hysterical feminine reaction.
Luckily she’d given up the vapours at a very early age, as Maria was far too good at them to stand competition. ‘Tell me,’ she demanded flatly, suddenly knowing this was going to be one of those painful revelations no words could soften.
‘He’s wed, Miss Courland. In fact, I was his groomsman, so there can be no doubting the truth of it, and a very fine wife he’s won himself, as well.’
‘I’m not in the least surprised,’ she returned calmly enough, for hadn’t she been thinking of that eventuality ever since that last letter from her brother was so full of his lovely Philomena? Even if she did feel shocked by the stark fact of David marrying without taking trouble to inform his family of it himself.
‘He also assured me he has no intention of returning to England for more than a visit. I’m sorry to break such news to you so abruptly, but either Davy couldn’t put his soul on paper, after all, or his letter has gone astray.’
Sir Charles Afforde looked distinctly uncomfortable about being the one to tell her. She could imagine him as sternly self-composed when having to go in front of his admiral with ill news, although Davy’s happiness wasn’t bad news, of course, yet she was torn between joy for him and terrible anxiety for all she held dear here.
‘Not coming back?’ she said at last and couldn’t hold back the most important question, ‘But what about Hollowhurst?’
Roxanne had no idea why she asked him the fate of her home with an absentee master committed to another country. Maybe her reign would continue, but apprehension set flocks of butterflies aflutter in her stomach and confirmed it was unlikely. At least she hoped it was apprehension, for Charles Afforde was very close now, and she was human, even if she was also a superannuated old maid.
‘That’s where I come in, I fear,’ he admitted gruffly.
‘You fear? When did you ever do that, Sir Charles?’ she asked stiffly, wondering just why he hadn’t said all this in a letter.
‘You’d
